The Importance of Ernestine

by Elizabeth Dunk

  ‘All right. But if Cecily needs help, you'll tell me, right?’

  ‘She's fine. Go.’ John waved him away.

  Alec disappeared but then moments later was back. ‘The media are all pouring out of the Great Hall and into the lobby to report what has just happened. Whatever is going on, you can't do it here.’

  ‘Gotcha,’ John said and went through the doors into the building proper. He went to his office, texting Cecily the new location.

  He poured himself a scotch, had a sip then set it aside. He needed to remain level headed for this.

  Cecily came in, wearing a short skirt and tight shirt that showed off a body John hadn’t noted before. ‘Nice.’

  ‘Thank you. Now, what is so important?’

  The words burbled out of John's throat. ‘I know who your mother is.’

  Cecily stiffened and stumbled backwards, as if she had been hit. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Sit, and I'll tell you everything.’

  ‘I'd rather stand.’ Cecily wrapped her arms around her waist, as if hugging herself.

  ‘I know who your mother is. I just heard a story from a woman who suffers postnatal depression. Twenty-seven years ago, she was having a terrible time dealing with the birth of her first child, a little girl. To try and get over it, she took the child shopping in Sydney. But it didn't work, and she was in the locker room at Central Railway Station and she had a brain snap and thought she took her baby home and left her shopping in the locker room, but it was the other way around. That baby has to be you.’

  There was a pause, then Cecily spoke slowly. ‘Let me see if I understand you. You just heard a story, you don't even know if it's true—’

  ‘Oh, I'm sure it is,’ John said. ‘If you'd heard it—’

  ‘Fucking shut up,’ Cecily said and the unexpected harshness of her language clamped John's mouth shut. ‘You hear a story, that you don't know is absolutely true, that bears some similarity to mine, and you decided without any further thought or investigation that you would drag me down here and announce that you've found my mother? And what, John? Was I supposed to just be overblown with happiness at this joyous event that, if it is true, will change my life forever?’

  ‘She's your mother,’ John said. ‘I thought you'd be happy to meet her.’

  ‘We don't know she's my mother. What if she isn't, and you go ahead and introduce me and she thinks she's found her long-lost daughter, and then it turns out I'm not? What about the damage done then? And did it ever occur to you that I have no interest whatsoever in finding out who my mother is?’

  Cecily's words didn't make sense. How could someone not want to know their mother? John would kill for one more day with his. ‘She's your mother.’

  ‘Allegedly. Supposedly. In your twisted mind. Did you even hear the whole story properly? Did she confirm that she never got her child back?’

  ‘Actually, I left before the story was finished. But I was—’

  ‘Oh, good work. Well done. You call me down here, you decide to just arbitrarily change my life forever, and without even hearing the whole story. You, John Worthing, can go to hell.’ Cecily spun on her heel and stormed out of the office.

  John dropped onto the couch. How had that gone so wrong? Why was Cecily so angry? Then he thought—what if the end of the story had been that they got their little girl back? No, they don't have a daughter, just two sons. But what if she had, and then the baby had died and it wasn't Cecily at all?

  He buried his face in his hands with a moan. He'd really, really fucked up.

  ‘So, I've been thinking.’

  Jesus. He should have known Alec would be back. He looked up to see the other man leaning against the door. ‘That would be a first.’

  Alec came into the room and poured himself a scotch. ‘At first I thought Cecily called you, and then you went out and called her back. Except the phone didn't ring, and I would have felt it vibrate. So you pulled up her number and called her. So then I thought—why would you do that in the middle of that heart-wrenching speech. Even you aren't so hard. So then I thought—there must have been something in the speech that you had to tell Cecily about. And then I remembered Cecily's story. You think she's the missing daughter and you called her to tell her.’

  John slumped against the chair. ‘I can't believe she told you.’

  ‘I can't believe you were foolish enough to call her. What did she say?’

  ‘That I was stupid to call her and stupid to believe she wanted to know anything about it and I could go to hell. In a nutshell.’

  ‘Well done. Good work. Now, let's go about this properly. We need to prove that Cecily is the missing daughter before we approach anyone about it.’

  ‘I really upset her, Alec. She's in a bad place.’

  ‘Onto it.’ Alec pulled out his phone and sent a text. They sipped the scotch while they awaited the answer. ‘Oh, interesting. Gwen's with her, knows everything, thinks you are a complete idiot and she's going to look after Cecily. So, we don't need to worry about her for tonight at least.’

  ‘Jesus. I didn't want Gwen to know what a nob I've been.’

  ‘Like she didn't already think it. Right, so here's what we're going to do. I'm invited to the PM’s suite now, and you're coming with me. We're going to talk to the lovely Mrs PM and get as many details about that day as we can. Then we're going to find the police report of Cecily's discovery and see if the details match. Once we know for certain it is true, we'll work out what to do next.’

  ‘Excellent idea.’ John downed the scotch. ‘With the understanding that even if we do prove it, Cecily may not want to know.’

  ‘Oh, I think she will. The truth about this, at least. So she can't be blindsided any more.’

  As they left the office, John hoped Alec was right.

  Gwendolen

  Sipping wine in the office of a government senator wasn't the initial plan for this night of celebration and exploring the options of the town, but still Gwen quite liked the frisson of naughtiness that came from doing something she shouldn't be doing in a place she shouldn't be.

  Then the door slammed open and Cecily returned. She spun and attempted to slam the door shut, but the force was so much it bounced back from the jam. So Cecily took the handle, marched forward to make sure the door shut, clicked the lock and then kicked the door for good measure.

  Whatever it was John had said had obviously been upsetting, and Gwen wouldn't have been surprised if somehow Alec was involved as well.

  Gwen put the glass down. ‘Tell me.’

  Cecily paced up and down the room. Her face was red, her hands shaking. Gwen sat and waited, hoping for Cecily's sake she wouldn't take too long to calm down because talking it out would help.

  Finally, Cecily stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face Gwen. ‘You know how I am a foundling?’

  ‘Yes. It was why you couldn’t get a passport until just recently.’

  ‘Well, the person who got me the passport was John. I told him the basics of my story. Tonight he heard a woman tell the story of a baby she abandoned and he decided that baby must be me and I must know about it immediately.’

  ‘Idiot,’ Gwen muttered. Her phone beeped.

  ‘Check that,’ Cecily said. ‘I'm going to get some more wine.’ She disappeared into the senator's office.

  It was a text from Alec, telling her Cecily had just had some upsetting news and she needed a friend right now. Gwen texted back she knew everything and was looking after her. So Alec was involved too. Idiot.

  Cecily came back with a bottle of French champagne. ‘Gift from a donor,’ she said. ‘Being put to great use.’ She popped the cork and it bounced against the ceiling before coming to rest near the door.

  ‘I can't begin to imagine how shocked you must be,’ Gwen said.

  Cecily poured herself a drink and sat down next to Gwen. ‘I'm angry. I'm confused. I have all these emotions, and I don't know what to think. Worst of all is the knowledge that it's
possible my mother, a woman I thought I would never know, is probably in this building. Right now. Just metres away. How crazy is that?’

  ‘Ridiculous,’ Gwen said. ‘Do you want to find out if it really is her?’

  ‘I don't know. I mean, I think I do, but I have lived my whole life not caring about her, not being curious at all about her, and that hasn't changed. Except it has. Everything has changed. Everything will never be the same again. I will never be the same again.’

  ‘That's a whole lot to have to take in on a night when you were planning to just go dancing and have some fun.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Cecily said. ‘Where's a fucking time machine when you need one? I'd go back and tell John I'll talk to him tomorrow morning. Maybe by then he would have gotten over it and I'd never know.’

  ‘Maybe he would have organised an ambush and you'd walk in here tomorrow morning to find your mother sitting here.’

  Cecily shuddered. ‘Horror.’

  ‘Do you still want to go dancing?’

  ‘Yes and no. Part of me wants to pretend this didn't happen. My head is saying I won't be able to relax and forget about it so it's a waste of time.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Inspiration struck Gwen. ‘If we went to a generic club, and there was people everywhere. That can make you feel really alone, even when you're surrounded by people. Whereas I have a disco ball back at my apartment.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Seriously. We can go back there, crank up the music, party and dance and you can lose yourself in the music. If you can't, you'll know you're not alone and if you need to leave, your place is just a few steps away.’

  Cecily looked at the carpet for a few moments then nodded. ‘That sounds perfect. Let's do it.’

  They'd driven over in Gwen's car, and Gwen drove them back. As she set up the cheap disco light she'd bought on a whim one day and got the music pumping, Cecily fixed them drinks and nibbles. Then they pushed the lounge out of the way and they danced.

  At first, it appeared Cecily was well into it. She danced and sang and drank and her face was happy and care free. But then her expression darkened, the dancing slowed and then it stopped.

  She gave Gwen a sad smile. ‘What if she is my mum?’

  ‘Do you want to find out?’

  ‘I need to. I can't decide what to do until I know. Maybe I'm worrying about nothing. Maybe she isn't and I can put this behind me. But how do we find out?’

  ‘John heard the story at the benefit tonight, right?’

  ‘Must have. But he left before the story was finished.’

  ‘Then maybe Alec heard it?’

  Cecily's eyes widened. ‘Alec's involved?’

  ‘He texted me earlier to tell me to look after you. I think he knows everything.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Cecily grabbed the bottle of wine, a glass and went out onto the balcony.

  Gwen took the lack of a no as permission and texted Alec.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘PH. Where are you? How is C?’

  ‘My place. She's confused. Angry. Did you hear the whole story?’

  ‘I know everything.’

  Gwen went out to the balcony. It was cool and quiet and shadowed. Cecily was sipping her drink and staring up at the stars.

  ‘Alec knows the whole story. He can tell you everything.’

  ‘Of course he can,’ Cecily said. ‘Tell him I'll meet him at the park at the end of the foreshore.’

  ‘I'm happy for him to come here.’

  Cecily shook her head. ‘I need a bit of a walk to clear my head. And I want to meet him on neutral ground. For us both.’

  Gwen sent the message and relayed the response. ‘He'll be there in ten minutes.’

  Cecily stook and hugged Gwen. ‘Thank you for being there for me tonight. I couldn't have got this far without you.’

  ‘I'm here any time.’ Gwen returned the hug. ‘I'll wait up in case you want to talk after you've spoken to Alec.’

  Cecily nodded and left. Gwen sat down and finished Cecily's glass. What an incredible night. She couldn't begin to imagine the life Cecily had lived, and now to have this dramatic news just dumped on her?

  Gwen picked up her phone and texted. ‘You're an idiot.’

  ‘I know,’ John responded. ‘I just wanted to give Cecily her mum back. I didn't think through what it meant, or how Cecily would feel about it.’

  ‘You don't get to decide who people have in their lives.’

  ‘Again—I know. But if someone offered me one last chance to see my mum, I'd take it. I miss her so much, it never occurred to me other people wouldn't feel the same.’

  They'd never talked that much about their past. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Mum died three months ago. Cancer. I still miss her like hell.’

  Harden up heart, Gwen told the recalcitrant organ. ‘I'm sorry to hear that. When this is over you can explain to Cecily. But for now—steer clear of her.’

  ‘Lesson learned. I'll wait for Cecily to come to me.’

  Gwen put the phone down and once again cursed that John just wasn't suitable for her. Because, damn, they were good together.

  Alec

  Cecily was sitting on top of one of the Uluru-like concrete forms at the front of the Kingston Foreshore park, arms wrapped around her knees. As he approached, Alec took off his coat.

  He stopped before her and held it out. Cecily looked at him, then at the coat, then nodded, took it and swung it around her shoulders.

  She clambered off the rock and they walked through the wrought iron fencing into the park, away from the noise and light of the bar that stood opposite. When they found a dark place, sheltered from sight by the apartment building that loomed over, Cecily turned to face him.

  ‘Tell me everything.’

  ‘Her name?’

  Cecily shuddered. ‘No. I just—I need to know if she really is possibly my mum, or just a woman with a tragically similar story. I can't bear knowing who she is.’

  ‘Okay,’ Alec said, although all Cecily would need to do tomorrow morning is look at a paper or go online and she'd see who it was.

  ‘This woman gave birth to a little girl on September 25, 1993 at St George Hospital in Sydney. They lived in Caringbah. Do you want to know what she named the little girl?’ Cecily shook her head. ‘The moment the baby was put into her arms, this woman knew something was wrong. She looked down at the baby and felt nothing. Everyone had told her that this would be a magical moment, that all this love would cascade over her, obliterating everything she'd ever known in her life. But she felt nothing.

  ‘She decided it must be because she was ill, and told the nurses. They told her she was fine, just some baby blues, that it was perfectly natural and she’d be fine in a few days, and made her start breastfeeding and she did it because she didn't want the fight but she was terrified she would be making the baby sick. The baby thrived. Everyone who came to see them told her how beautiful the little girl was, how lucky she was. She felt nothing.’

  As he spoke, Alec watched Cecily's face. Waiting for a sign that it was becoming too much, so he could stop and not cause her anymore pain. She looked calm, so he continued.

  ‘The woman took the baby home, hoping that whatever was making her unwell would go away soon and then she could start loving her baby. It never happened. She didn't feel sick. She was able to do everything she needed to do. She kept on top of the housework, and cooked the meals, and fed and bathed the baby. She didn't feel sick, yet she could not love her baby. She would look at the little girl and feel nothing.

  ‘The fear grew that she was an unnatural woman. That she was incapable of loving her child. She didn't dare tell anyone how she felt, for fear they would abandon her. So she struggled alone.’

  No sympathy on Cecily's face. Maybe she was cutting herself off from feeling anything.

  ‘On November 8...’ Cecily jolted. ‘Should I continue?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cecily said, softly but with determination.
>
  ‘I'll stop the moment you need me to.’

  ‘I need to hear everything, Alec. Go on.’

  With a sense of trepidation, Alec did. ‘On November 8, when the baby was six weeks old, the woman woke and decided it was time to stop wallowing. She would get out, re-establish her old life, and the baby would just come along for the ride. She dressed them both and took the train into Sydney, where she indulged in her passion for shopping. She went to all her favourite stores, mostly in the Queen Victoria Building, expensive stores because she and her husband were quite well off. Then she had lunch at her favourite restaurant by the harbour. Everywhere she went, people complimented her on the baby, who was quite well behaved. The woman would nod and smile and thank them, because she knew that was what was expected of her. But she didn't feel their joy. Even out here in the world, having so much fun, when she looked at the baby she felt nothing.

  ‘She got a taxi to Central Railway Station, and went into the locker room of the country side trains. She always caught the country train down to Sutherland and then got the bus home when she could. She put the shopping bags down, and put the carrier on the seat. Then she put the baby on the seat, took her shopping out and laid it on the seat next to the baby. It was a long, wooden bench, bolted to the wall.’ Again, Cecily jolted but she put up her hand.

  ‘Keep going.’

  ‘If this is too hard for you...’

  Cecily narrowed her eyes. ‘I am not a child, Alec. I will decide when I've had enough.’

  She was so strong, but that didn't mean he didn't want her to hurt. But she was right—it wasn't for him to say when he should stop. ‘She stared at the shopping and at her baby. Looking at what she bought made her smile, made her feel good. The baby made her feel nothing.

  ‘She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. She wanted to walk away from it all. She felt such a failure. Instead, she put the shopping away. She put the baby away. She picked up the carrier and walked out, leaving the shopping behind. She got on the train and stared out the window all the way home. She got a taxi back to the house. The baby was still sleeping so she put the carrier in on the bed and went and got herself a wine and sat out in the yard. It was time, she decided, to tell her husband what was going on and seek his help.